Local high school band informed trumpet player, arranger for Diana Ross

Gilbert Askey left Austin for good at age 17 in 1942, but the former Motown arranger, who received an Oscar nomination for his work with Diana Ross on "Lady Sings the Blues," says "Austin has never left me."

Although he has lived for 30 years in Australia, where his wife, Hellen, is from, the L.C. Anderson High School graduate comes back to visit once a year. His nickname is "Brother," and when he comes back to Austin, state Rep. Dawnna Dukes said, "Brother makes an effort to see everyone around from the old days." His two older sisters, Grace and Velma Jo, are still alive, as are friends that go as far back with Askey as the first grade at the Olive Street School.

Timing smiled when the 85-year-old trumpet player was in town in early February, just three weeks before Ross, his boss for more than 10 years, was set to appear at ACL Live at the Moody Theater . Love a local tie-in to the most successful female recording artist in history.

Over coffee at Denny's, however, Askey put off questions about his glitzy musical résumé and instead told long stories of growing up dirt poor in East Austin. He made imaginary street maps with the side of his hand — "Hackberry, Juniper, Willow..." he'd recite.

Askey helped discover the Jackson 5 and was musical director on tours by the Four Tops, the Temptations, Gladys Knight and the Supremes. He co-wrote hits for Curtis Mayfield and Linda Clifford, and yet he wanted to talk more about musicians he played with on the Anderson High Yellow Jackets marching band, including Kenny Dorham, Roy and Alvin Patterson, Ray Murphy, Paris Jones, Warner "Rip" Ross and Buford Banks (trumpeter Martin's dad). They all used to get together at the Pattersons' house and play jazz, which was frowned upon by Anderson High band director B.L. Joyce. Askey grew up idolizing Harry James of Beaumont, while Dorham, who would go on to replace Miles Davis in Charlie Parker's band, knew every Erskine Hawkins lick.

But the authoritative Joyce was all about John Philip Sousa marches. Outfitting his band with uniforms he tailored himself, Joyce led the Yellow Jackets to state marching band championships during Askey's last two years at Anderson, which was then located at 1607 Pennsylvania Ave., near where Kealing Middle School is today.

Askey does not go easily from memories of Rip Ross to Diana Ross. It's as if he's written a book about his life in his head and when asked about it, he doesn't want to be rushed through the early chapters. "I'm gettin' to that," he'd say whenever a question about his career was posed, "but first I'm going to tell you the stuff people need to know about." He wears big glasses slid to the end of his nose and looks over them for emphasis. "Mr. Joyce thought that if the white schools had a band, the black schools should have one, too."

Benjamin Leo Joyce, a master tailor by trade, formed the first Anderson High Yellow Jackets band in 1933 and ruled with an iron baton until 1955, when a new school district ruling that band directors must have music degrees forced him out, amidst much community uproar. His replacement was his former first trumpeter Alvin Patterson, who led the band until desegregation closed the school in 1971.

Askey's mother was Ada DeBlanc Simond, the noted African American historian and author who penned the "Looking Back" column in the American-Statesman for several years. Askey's father, Aubrey, left when Askey was 2 and, with his mother already having three kids by age 26, he was raised by his grandparents Gilbert and Mathilde, Creoles from Louisiana, who spoke French in the house.

Askey's cousin was R&B singer Damita Jo; Texas Rep. Dukes is his first cousin once removed.

Joyce had recruited a 10-year-old Askey in 1935 to start playing trumpet at Kealing Middle School, whose band he also ran. "I was shooting marbles, and this kid said, 'You should try out for the band,' and I said, 'The band's for sissies. I want to play football,' " Askey recalled. Joyce was in earshot of that exchange and within days Askey's grandmother was in Joyce's office. "He sold her an old beat-up Martin trumpet for, like, $10, and the next thing you know I'm taking lessons from Mr. Joyce."

Like most of the neighborhood kids, Askey was intimidated by Joyce, who would carry a small billy club at band practice and rap kids across the back if they were goofing off or playing jazz. "I came to realize he had another side to him," said Askey. "He really cared about us."