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Paul
Vieregge, stage manager emeritus for the Monterey Jazz
Festival, passed away peacefully in his sleep early on the
morning of Monday, March 30, 2009, following a long battle
with cancer. He was 86.
Here's a profile of
Paul that jazz journalist Beth Peerless wrote for JazzWest
back in 2002. We'll
update this page as information about memorial services
becomes available.
— Wayne
Saroyan, Editor, JazzWest.com
  
Print
In the
world of jazz, where spontaneity and fluidity are a given,
Paul Vieregge is known as a set 'em up, knock 'em
down sort of guy. His uncommon ability to mix an easy
going nature with a no-nonsense approach to getting things
done has served him well while main stage manager at the Monterey
Jazz Festival for 35 years and as founder and artistic
director of the Big Sur JazzFest.
In
retirement, he applies the same unerring determination to
chopping wood and bowling as he did to getting the stage
set and players in place at Monterey. It's set 'em up,
knock 'em down, set 'em up again. And by the way, aren't
we having fun? Humor is never far off from a Vieregge
venture.
In
recalling his life at the turn of the century, the almost
78-year-old Big Sur resident is quick to laugh and see the
lighter side of things. Although he has shown the wisdom
to say good-bye to his jazz jobs when the time was right,
he relishes the fact that he is still a part of the
festivities.
As
stage manager emeritus at Monterey, Vieregge returns to
hang with his jazz "family" each fall at the
same site where he helped Jimmy Lyons and Ralph
Gleason realize their vision of a "festive"
jazz festival in 1958. And at Big Sur, where he set the
festival in motion five years ago in his own
"backyard," he recently stepped down from his
position on the board so he could do the hang at the
festival with neighbors in the early spring. But, it's
doubtful you'll see him in the audience.
"What's
funny is I have a real problem just sitting watching
somebody play," he said, laughing. "It's just
not a natural thing for me to do. Somebody gives me a
ticket to go out there and sit down, no way."
Vieregge retired from his position with Monterey in 1992,
the same year as co-founder Lyons. It wasn't entirely out
of loyalty to his friend of so many years. It was, in his
estimation, a move that would ease the strain of
transition for the incoming Tim Jackson.
"The
biggest reason was," he said, "is that general
managers are like kings. If there's a change of party in
the White House, it's the same thing. I had been for a
long time, telling Michael Wilmot that he would be
heir apparent. At the time that the change came, I felt it
was only fair to Tim and also to myself, that I say, 'Tim,
I think it's wonderful that you're doing this. I really
recommend that you talk to my friend Michael about
carrying on 'cuz he knows everything.'
"The
last thing in the world that I would ever want to do would
be in that position where I would say, 'Well, the way we
always did it...' Tim didn't need that. I don't need that.
And as it turned out, he and Michael have a very good
rapport. The show was growing, everything was marvelous.
Bless their hearts, they've done very, very well by
me."
From
Monterey to Big Sur
After a
leadership transfer at the Big Sur JazzFest, Vieregge
again noticed that there would be changes in the
organization's dynamics. Not willing to shift gears to
another person's vision, he felt that he was just better
off stepping down.
"The
fact that the next time the festival goes on I'll be 78
years old has a certain amount to do with it," he
said. "And it's made some subtle changes going under
the sponsorship of the Big Sur Arts Initiative. It's now
concentrated on one particular aspect of the community and
I personally have a feeling for a larger part of the
community. I kind of like the idea that when we made some
money we were able to look around and see who needed it.
And it turns out the involvement of the Arts Initiative
came from the fact that when we looked last year, they
were the thing we thought most needed the help.
"When
it came to the point where Bob (Cosgrove) had
worked his fanny off, he had small children in school, a
job to do, and the festival got to be more than he could
fit in, he left. Then it became a good time for us to
merge with the Arts Initiative. Because of its own focus,
the fact that it's got a definite direction its going in,
it tends to have a look at jazz a little differently than
I do.
"I'm
too old to do any more teaching," he adds with a
laugh. "Or to have to say, 'No we can't do that.'
Wait a minute, we can do anything we want to do. It was
the same to me as the change of management at Monterey.
This change also has an affect on me. I'm just ornery
enough, I want to do things my way and that's not always
the best."
Maybe
not always, but what he saw fit to be done at the
inaugural Monterey Jazz Festival is how he made his way
into the organization as stage manager.
An
Early Career at Sea and on the Airwaves
The
Vallejo-born and raised son of German immigrant parents
met jazz DJ Lyons while he was employed at KRON TV in San
Francisco. Television had just come to the West Coast in
1950, the year Vieregge completed his college education at
College of the Pacific in Stockton. He had already worked
as a machinist at the Naval Yard in Oakland before World
War II. And when the United States became involved in the
conflict, he followed in his father's footsteps and joined
the Navy.
When
"the world had been made safe one more time," he
said, the GI bill offered him the opportunity to attend
college. He had dreamed of becoming a trial lawyer, but
discovered that to study and practice law, one had to
spend copious amounts of time in the library, not
something he had ever been that good at. But the aspect of
acting in the courtroom still intrigued him, so he chose
instead to pursue an acting career. When University of
Pacific accepted him after he "got some grades"
at San Francisco State University, the realization that he
really was not an actor propelled him into behind the
scenes work, where he excelled at the technical side of
theater.
So the
timing was right for him to move into the new industry of
television production work. Lyons, a DJ at KNBC, had added
television to his repertoire with a program that
introduced jazz musicians through live performance and
interviews. Vieregge had moved to KGO after a year at KRON
and worked nights handling stage design, lighting and
management for the locally produced shows.
"I
always preferred to work nights than days," he said.
"Days were the time when you went to the beach, and
nights were when you worked. God only made so much
sunshine. Be out in it. Why work when the sun's
shining?"
Vieregge
had already developed a Big Sur sort of mentality,
although he was years away from moving there himself, one
of the reasons he and Lyons found common ground in the
first place. The jazz DJ had recently moved to Big Sur and
commuted to San Francisco on weekends to do his radio and
television programs.
Vieregge
often visited with Lyons on Friday nights to sit and chat
and one night Lyons asked him, "Hey, you know, my
friends tell me when I'm on KGO I look better than when
I'm on the other stations. How come?"
"Because
we spend a little more time," Vieregge replied,
"and we have more equipment, we have better lighting.
With better lighting you look better."
He
said, "You know, I'm going to be doing a jazz
festival down in Monterey. How do I go about getting that
kind of lighting?"
"You
should ask me and my buddy Milt to come down and do
it," suggested Vieregge, and that's how he made his
entrance into jazz.
A
Backstage Star Is Born
That
first year proved to be a success, not in small part to
Vieregge's contributions. Organizing a team to pull off
the production aspects of the festival turned out to be
more trying than originally thought. Various snafus were
dealt with spontaneously, and as the stage took form, the
opening curtain drew closer.
Oh
yeah, there was no curtain. So a line of footlights were
set up facing the audience. Between acts they were turned
on to create a wall of light that obscured the view of
scurrying technicians rearranging the stage. Like in
theater, the magic was retained through illusion. The
person Lyons originally hired as stage manager was a local
guy via San Francisco who had run his wife's ballet
studio, but when it came to the opening show, he would
soon realize that this was no Nutcracker Suite.
"The
guy was sitting by the back door of the stage with a
little folding chair and a list," said Vieregge,
"and he said, 'Mr. Gillespie, you're on for the
opening, and we open in five minutes.' Now, who he was
saying that to I had no idea, cuz Diz was nowhere in
sight. If it were in a ballet studio, they'd know that the
first class would be there. But jazz in those days didn't
work that way. It really didn't.
"One
of the things that became very important about Monterey
was in effect to put jazz in a better light. To get it out
of the smoke-filled bars. And what became traditional at a
lot of festivals, and even more so at Monterey than
probably at a lot, is it ran in a more theatrical than
jazz way."
Being
the professional that he was, Vieregge stepped in to help
the stage manager get things rolling. At the end of the
show, the man thanked him and he said no problem. But,
then the guy said, 'I'll see you tomorrow for the one
o'clock show, so I'll see you at 12:30.' And Vieregge
said, 'There's a nine o'clock rehearsal.' The other guy
then says, "I'll be here at the show, I'm just the
stage manager.' So it was Vieregge who was there at 8
o'clock in the morning to set up the orchestra by himself.
"So
it went on like that," he said. "And when the
weekend was finally over and I'm walking down the arcade
toward the festival office, I heard a voice behind me say,
'Well, I learned one thing this weekend. I'm never going
to do another show that you're not the stage manager.' It
was Lyons talking. So for the next 35 years, I did
it."
The
Man Behind the Curtain
Backstage
work allowed him to be an integral part of the decision
making team at the festival. As far as access to the
artists, he was always immersed in his job and he found
there were few opportunities to make small talk. But
through the years, the artist's familiarity with his
steadfastness brought him great rewards. Like the time
Dizzy asked him to take care of his horn while he ran off
stage to do something.
"And
he hands me his horn," said Vieregge in a hushed
tone. "You know like, wow! There are not 10 people in
the world that he's going to turn around and hand his horn
to. And it was just, wow. That and Percy Heath
letting me move his bass. Those were great moments in my
life." And although he was in constant flux with the
business of running the stage, Vieregge found that through
the years he grew to understand the nature of the jazz
artist, and how they see life.
"It's
a particular view of the world around them seen from the
position that you would have to be able to play as well as
they do to get the same view," he postulated.
"It's very difficult. What happens is, rather than
chit chat about literature or painting or things like
that, they go to the heart of things very quickly. And
they have a view and it has to do with the fact that a
successful jazz musician these days has been everywhere in
the world. And they're in a different place every day,
they're meeting different people every day. So that they
talk almost in a shorthand. And you know, they speak very
directly to one another. They relate to people the way
that they relate to their music, very directly and in a
let's do it straight ahead bam."
There
are lots of things that Vieregge observed over the years
that pertain to the history of jazz, the great
performances, the shift in styles, Lyons' dislike of
electric instrumentation and its place -- or non-place --
at the festival, the lessening of Gleason's role at the
event, and the press' dissatisfaction with Lyons'
allegiance to his friends in the classic and bebop jazz
world.
Jazz
Comes to the Big Sur Coastline
After
20 years in television, in 1970 Vieregge and his wife Penny,
with their three kids, moved to Big Sur. Although he first
thought he might find work as an assistant producer in
Hollywood part-time, it proved to be unworkable in
reality. So, he went to work at Nepenthe, a Big Sur
landmark restaurant, where he worked on and off through
the years as he continued to do stage managing for Lyons.
When he retired from the Monterey Jazz Festival position,
he already had quit the restaurant business, so he spent a
few years taking it easy before coming up with the idea to
have a jazz festival in Big Sur.
In
actuality, through an act of consulting for Post Ranch's
GM Larry Callahan, he took the resort's unfeasible
idea of producing jazz concerts for its guests, combined
with his knowledge of the Telluride Jazz Festival's
structure and the concept of Utah's Sundance Film Festival
and rolled it all into a workable blueprint for a
non-profit event for the Big Sur community. The first
festival transpired nine months after the concept was
conceived, fitting he observes. But now he's passed the
baton after five years. Not that he won't sit around and
discuss jazz or give you his opinion on what group he saw
at Monterey that might fit into Big Sur's format.
True to
his nature, Vieregge enjoys walks on the beach during the
day and talks about sports at the neighborhood watering
hole in the evenings, where who knows, another bright idea
might emerge. Or it might come as he wields his ax through
a pile of wood preparing for the winter's cold and wet
season in the rugged wilderness area where he lives.
But one
thing is clear, the world of jazz has benefited immensely
from his implementation of ideas. And he's still the man
behind the scenes on the scene at Monterey and Big Sur,
knocking 'em down with his friends.
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