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I found this article today and it brought back some nice memories. I wrote this back in 2004 for this very forum, but it has gone to that great cyber wasteland known as archival-world. So, after reading it today, I thought it would be fun to re-post here. When I wrote this Boss was still alive and I was still up in Wisconsin. After sitting in with the band in Madison, Wisconsin I felt the Muse moving and decided to write up this li'l ditty. I think it describes life on the road pretty well, as well as giving a nice history of said "Jar". Plus, in the tradition of my wonderful blood-brother Denny DiBlasio, it has a couple of cool road stories. I hope you enjoy it:

"Life in a Jar"
(Living on The Road With The Maynard Ferguson Band)
By: Steve Wiest
Originally Published: March 2004

When I was in college getting my undergraduate degree in jazz studies form the University of Southern Mississippi, I had the good fortune of seeing my future home/school/laboratory. I didn't know at the time that I was looking at a place I would soon be living, nor did I realize that I was actually standing on one campus looking at another one (an interesting feat for anyone in the midst of their academic career!). Had someone told me that I was in the presence of the instrument that would open every door for me for the rest of my life, I would have told them they were crazy (actually, I would have agreed with them...I had a tremendous ego in those days...which has only now matured to moderately out-of-control level). But all of that was true...on that day long ago in Hattiesburg Mississippi I stood gazing longingly into the legendary MF Jar…Maynard Ferguson's tour bus.

How many young musicians have done what I did that night? How many musicians go to a Maynard concert and get blown away by the staggering talent and unbelievable high-energy coming off the stage and then follow it up with a patient vigil at the MF bus hoping to say hello to their heroes? I'm sure that this is a common occurrence...I did it many times myself, I've seen it countless times when I was with the band, and I saw an example recently as I went to sit in with the band at a concert in Madison, Wisconsin. How many young hopefuls get to follow that experience up with actually joining the band a year later? Not many. I count myself blessed that I had that opportunity. But how about those of you who would like to have done so? What is it like? How does one live with a bunch of other musicians in a mobile petri dish year-round and survive? Is it cool? Is it a drag? What's it like? Well, here is my take on it:

One of the best ways to learn a language and become fluent in it is to immerse yourself in the culture...go live in that city speaking only that language and order food, get directions, have conversations using a new language complete with slang, nuance, double-meanings, humor, everything! When you do that, you have not only studied a language, but you have assimilated it into your own persona as well. This is exactly what happens when you join a band on the road and then spend a significant amount of time touring with them. While I received a wonderful education while at USM ( I was fortunate to have a mentor in Raoul Jerome, the fine jazz guru at Southern Miss in those days)...I received my doctorate in jazz, humility, and lifeliving amongst the crazies that populated Maynard's band from 1981- 1985. I essentially soaked up an education from Eastman, Miami, North Texas, everywhere that these guys joined the band from. The atmosphere was electric, musically. We all were writing, practicing, and learning at the same time...24 hours a day, 7 days a week...all year long! What an amazing experience! My great friends at this time were supremely gifted: pianist/composer Matt Harris, and Ron Pedley...saxophonists and composers Tim Ries, Rick Margitza, Danny Jordon, Nelson Hill...fellow trombonist and blood-brother Chris Brayman, bass trombonist Joe Barati, drummers Dave Mancini, Greg Bissonette,…bassists Matt Bissonette, and Bob Wackerman, my room mate for 3 years and lifetime bro': Denis DiBlasio, and of course my big brother/uncle/daddy/hero: Maynard. It was as much fun hanging out with these guys as you would imagine...and then some! What a blast.

As in everything else in life, though, things weren't always great. The best music is about tension and release, and such is the case in life. Yin and Yang, good and bad...well you get the idea. In the case of Maynard's band, putting all of these personalities into a closed environment and then pushing them to their limits brought out all kinds of interesting personality traits. Some which would never surface again in later life and others that were sadly just a part of one's persona. In my time on the band, I saw two people get fired. In my opinion, both people deserved their hard-earned termination. I also knew others that I was amazed were allowed to stay on the band! Go figure. Some people work well with others, and some people seem to thrive on causing headaches. We had both in that psycho-analysis cabin on wheels. Thankfully, the good ones always seemed to outnumber the bad ones, and eventually triumph. Just like a Bob Brookmeyer chart that eventually gets to the solo section! Tension and release. Now, of course, I am treading lightly because as in all elite organizations there are the things that get told and the things that are known among the inner circle. You won't get much of the inner circle goodies here except to say this: imagine a bunch of very creative 20-somethings on a 24/7 magical mystery tour of the world where their main objective is to groove, swing, and dig jazz. No responsibilities beyond that. Imagine some of the shenanigans that are possible multiply it by 1,000,000 and
then make a guess on the extreme side and you will be close.

How about the bus itself? Have you ever watched a UFO and wondered what it looks like inside? ( if you have, we need to talk!) Well, the bus has changed drastically over the years. When I started with the band (here comes the old veteran hauling his medals out of moth balls and telling stories about how it was so much tougher backin- the-day!) the bus was simply a bus: a bunch of seats on either side of an aisle with a luggage rack on top and an escape hatch in the roof towards the back close to the head (to call it a bathroom would constitute a field-promotion). This was a serious education in the blues...no frills, no comforts, not a single luxury (yes, you can sing this part of the story with the melody from Gilligan's Island). It was a bus, and a kind of lame one at that. Now add those bunch of loony, creative, jazz geniuses of which I have spoken and you simply get magic. The bus transforms instantly into a landscape. We all became primal in the protection of our territory...our seats were seats no longer, they became "areas". And there were areas of importance above others. The front was reserved for Maynard, and the seats around him became the elite of the elite with seniority. Then, as you went back into the bus, the middle section was sort of a middle class comfortable neighborhood. The party zone became more apparent the farther you went back culminating in the most coveted of areas: the back seat! The back seat (a trade-off really as it was situated next to the none-too-wellventilated head) was longer than the others and couldn't be attacked from the back...an important feature. Those who claimed the back seat over the years inherited a sacred right as MC, and Host extraordinaire. And as you might have guessed at this point in the story, I did indeed live in the back seat! I christened it "Wiestworld" and held court quite often. Big...HUGE...fun!

One quick story from those early days. One of the great characters in the band was Eric Traub, tenor saxophonist of towering talent now located in New Orleans, who had one of the most enigmatic nick names of all time: Zembo Mosque. Zembo had an affinity for the dramatic...shock value if you will. One fine day we pulled up to a venue close to show time and came upon a long line of fans waiting for the doors to open. Professor Mosque popped open the hatch, stood up on a seat, rose up above the bus and announced to the throngs in a clear booming voice: "Attention people of Earth...we have come for your women." Needless to say, this left the MF faithful a bit shaken, but it was quite a hoot for the denizens of the jar!

Over the years, Maynard purchased the bus and we began a slow upgrade as far as creature comforts. We took out every other seat, installed plywood boards, covered them with foam rubber and made rudimentary beds. Quite an advantage over a seat or hard floor on those 700 mile hit-and-runs! Portions of the bus were sectioned off, thus making the caste system a bit more defined while at the same time creating a more homey look. After years of homemade attempts at fauxluxury though, the jar became a starship indeed AFTER I left the band! Ain't that always the way, you graduate and the school finally makes that trip to Europe...well road manager (and my personal angler guru) Ed Sargent worked out a great deal with a customized bus company and the MF crew found themselves with a state-of-the-art tour bus fit for the Rolling Stones! Now, the bus has oak-wood walls, hot and cold running water, a video lounge, a virtual pent-house for Maynard, and bunks! When I saw this amazing ship, I felt like Scotty on the episode of Star Trek TNG where he is brought into the future to see all of the advancements on the new Enterprise! How do these guys learn to play the blues these days? Obviously they are successful, but not because of an uncomfortable lame bus! (it still smells like a bus though..."you can take the boy out of the country, but you cain't take the country out of the boy!")

So, there you have it. The inspiration and life's joy that come from traveling all over this great land of ours with a bunch of idiots who have the same passion in life as you do. All because of a very, very special man who happened to arrive on our planet in our lifetime. Ain't life grand?