The Passing of a Friend; RIP Louis Gramling (Aug 3, 1938-May 12, 2026)

Louis Gramling on his Eightieth birthday in 2018 

I lost a friend on May 12^th of this year after he succumbed to a relatively short heath condition, his name was Louis Gramling. I have posted a picture he sent me from his eightieth birthday; it was about eight years ago. How time flies. By the time he celebrated that birthday, I had already relocated to the Atlanta area. Consequently, Louis and I had retained a good friendship over the phone, through emails, and trading music long after my departure from Connecticut, where we first met. I am not a relative, no longer a geographically convenient friend, but we somehow maintained our connection and friendship for years. I thought I couldn't just let his passing go by without sharing my recollections of knowing this fine man and acknowledging how proud I was to have called Louis my friend.

At the age of eighty-seven, Louis didn’t have immediate family left in his life except for a cousin that he talked about and still communicated with back in his native Hungary. At a certain age, we will all have to deal with the reality that life can become lonely. Many family members, significant partners, and friends predecease us as we age, and it can be challenging to maintain one’s sense of purpose. Louis’s lasting companions were his extensive library of books and his collection of records, tapes and cds.  He also had an ex-wife who maintained as a friend, a current girlfriend that was close, and a disparate group of close acquaintances and friends like me.

When Louis was recently hospitalized, and was determined to be terminally ill, he contacted me to say goodbye and asked me if I could contact three of his friends and let them know of his condition.  It was a difficult time to hear his voice and to know he was slipping away quickly. Thankfully, he was able to make connections to those three people that he asked me to contact, and in a small way I felt lucky to have been able to facilitate that connection and was able to do my friend one last courtesy.

The history of our friendship is certainly a little humorous. I had decided to buy a small console piano post-divorce back in 2000. I had played guitar and harmonica for years in rock bands and in folk duos, but I always thought the piano would be a more promising instrument, if I could only learn to play it well? I thought my changing life circumstances would allow me more time to dedicate to this avocation. With my newly ignited ambition to seriously learn to play piano, I suddenly had the karmic experience of meeting Louis at the piano store where I had purchased my piano. He was an excellent pianist and composer. He was also a personable, opinionated, and a good-humored guy to boot! It turns out he was giving piano lessons and was supposedly a pretty good teacher. I booked private weekly lessons with him, thinking this would make my learning with a good instructor an easier challenge. Louis would come to my house, sit me down on the bench, and open rudimentary books that required me to practice scales, sight read music, and learn how to master simple songs. The lessons were an hour each week and it was up to me to practice diligently whatever he assigned. I would have to consistently put in the boring, repetitive work needed to become an accomplished technician and hopefully in time a decent pianist. It didn’t take long for me to lose some of my enthusiasm for the tedium. Taking baby steps to establish a foundation was not what I wanted to hear. I thought with my musical background I should breeze through the basics and get to the meat more quickly. I gave it a try for months, and I quickly became less happier, inpatient student. The shine was coming off the apple for me. 

Louis and I both had a love of jazz music. I had a good ear and could pick up riffs and melodies on the guitar without really putting the effort into being a good sight reader. Why couldn’t I get to the same place quicker on the piano with a teacher? I became disillusioned at how little real music I was able to play after many months of lessons with Louis. It was like me attempting to fit my square peg into a round hole, Aware of my frustration with the process, Louis tried to get me to play some jazz songs that I had really loved by just listening to recordings and trying to practice mimicking them by ear. He thought this might rekindle my original enthusiasm, but I even struggled with that. I was realizing virtuosity is not something that comes easy. Eventually, despite Louis’ valiant efforts, we both concluded that my aspirations for playing piano were unlikely to come to fruition. I discovered that while I did love playing music, I just didn’t want to put in the work, the time and the sweat needed be a legitimate musician. Hacking around the edges of the music like I had done for years prior was joy enough for me. I was not destined to be one of Louis’s star students, but the beauty of our relationship was that it didn’t prejudice our friendship one iota.  Mutually, our friendship became the real reward that blossomed out of this otherwise failed experiment.

Louis Gramling at one of our many lunches.

While I was in Connecticut, outside of my lessons, Louis and I often would plan to meet for lunch, converse about music and politics, exchange philosophical ideas and just enjoy each other’s company. I had a full-time, successful gig in construction and real estate development that helped me raise my family and pay my bills. As an avocation, I had taken up writing reviews of jazz music in my spare time and was published starting back in 2007. This outlet fed my need to be involved in the music, gave me some credentials, and I found my love of the music was better expressed through my reviews, my interviews, my concert postings than any of my attempts to try to play jazz. Louis encouraged my writing and we often discussed the nuances of the music I was reviewing; disagreeing at times and rejoicing in agreement at other times. We maintained these exchanges, often times weekly, despite the geographical distance that separated us when I moved from Atlanta to the Pacific Northwest.

Louis was of born in Hungary in 1938. As a young man, he came into this country to follow his dream of being a successful professional musician. By almost anyone's standards, Louis was a success. He  was an excellent pianist and played with top notch players over the years, often on call as a valuable sideman. He made an imprint on those who got to play with him as a musician, as well as to those who simply knew him as a friend. I will sorely miss our conversations.

Having been brought up as a youth in a communist controlled country, Louis had a love for the freedoms that this country bestowed on every citizen, whether they be an immigrant like Louis had been or a native-born citizen like me. Louis did not take these freedoms lightly. He was truly one of a kind, a a principled individual with strong beliefs who was not easily swayed. We often disagreed about political concepts and actions and whether they were good for the citizenry or detrimental. He was much more politically conservative than I was and when discussions got heated and passions got the best of us, we often stopped the conversation and gentlemanly agreed to disagree. I will have a hard time not having his contrarian voice to hear anymore.

I know Louis was working up till the end on an album that would include many of his compositions that had never been recorded. He got a world class flautist that he was friendly with to be interested in playing on this project. He wanted me to try my hand on some lyrics and had gotten a famous Hungarian artist to commit to making the album cover art. He was hoping this project would stir up interest in his compositional treasure trove that he felt be his legacy. It’s too bad that fate would deal him the hand that we will never get to hear this final project. I am sure it would have been brilliant. 

Here is a song "Solitude" from the recently departed master saxophonist Sonny Rollins dedicated to you my friend. If there is jazz in heaven Sonny will be playing this to and you will be smiling listening to it! Rest in Peace old friend.