Mike LeDonne is one of the most soulful and technically proficient jazz musicians in New York City. A master of the Hammond organ, he’s also an accomplished pianist. LeDonne worked with jazz luminaries, including Benny Goodman, Milt Jackson and Benny Golson, before forming his own aptly titled Groover Quartet.
On my recent trip to New York, I caught LeDonne lighting up the night in Harlem with an all-star group called The Heavy Hitters at a club called Smoke. Between sets, I introduced myself and requested an interview, and LeDonne graciously invited me to his midtown apartment a few days later.
It’s the same rent controlled high-rise that LeDonne and his family have occupied since the 1980s, a challenging time for the midtown New York neighborhood. Much has changed with the neighborhood's gentrification, but LeDonne remains steady at the helm of the Steinway piano prominently placed in his living room. As we sat on his balcony with a beautiful view of Manhattan, LeDonne needed little prompting to recount the unique aspects of an improvising artist in this ever-changing mecca of jazz.
For all of his prolific musical activity, the work Mike LeDonne has done on behalf of the community of disabled people rivals his musical accomplishments. Inspired by his daughter Mary who was born with Prader-Willi syndrome, a rare disorder, LeDonne founded the organization Disability Pride NYC, responsible for the annual Disability Pride Parade in New York. While the bulk of this work has been voluntary, LeDonne derives spiritual satisfaction from helping others.
Interview Highlights
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
On raising funds for the Disability Pride Parade in NYC
I learned that when you do good, good comes back. I didn't expect that, but it proved itself in so many ways. And one of the ways was that when I needed to raise money because a parade costs a lot of money, I always thought that cities put on the parade, but it's actually small groups like mine.
I never raised funds in my life. So, it's like, okay, let's raise the money. “How do I do that?” Well, I know Ron Carter, I know George Coleman, I know Jimmy Cobb. I know all these great jazz musicians. They're all friends of mine. So, I called them and said, “Would you possibly play two songs in a concert for free and help me raise the money to do this?” All of them said yes, and they all came.
And so, here's all the jazz community coming out, and I'm talking about everybody. After we did three big concerts to raise money for the first three years, I had people from the jazz community calling me to say, “I want to be in your concert for free.” That made me realize how much love there is in the jazz community.
The payoff for organizing the parade
The feeling of being in front of that parade is the greatest feeling I've ever had in my life. You know, when I've got 10,000 people from the community, and the New York City Police marching band leads it off. And me and Margaret, — my wife — and my daughter are in the front of the parade. And we start marching down Broadway, all these people around the sides of the streets cheering and we wind up in Union Square with this big festival and music and food.
I had no comprehension of how to do any of it. And I did it. I'm not a special person — I'm just a regular old person, so anybody can do it. We actually inspired a parade in Italy, and in England and in Senegal, Africa; they all started parades because they saw ours!
On coming to NYC in the early eighties and working with jazz masters like Milt Jackson and Benny Golson
We were all scared to death of those masters, and we all wanted to play with them. We never spoke about them as if they were irrelevant or some old guys that were doing the old-fashioned [thing]. That never even crossed my mind. To us, it was like they were the kings, and we were just the serfdom. And we were trying to get close to the kings, and the closer we got, a little bit might rub off on us.
The main difference today is that there has become this division between young and old that I've never seen before —the generation gap. This music doesn't allow for generation gaps.
To me, music gets rid of that. So that's why I was able to play with Milt Jackson when I was 29 or 30 years old [and] he was like in his sixties. But we just hooked right up because the music hooked up. And I never thought like, “Oh, this old guy still playing that bebop stuff, you know? And I'm, I'm doing my new stuff.” Never! I just thought, like, whoa, I have to get better quick to play with this guy, because the music was so deep!
On teaching
I find that I get respect from the students because I'm honest, and they know it. They know they have flaws, even if they have tremendous egos. Sometimes they know when I hit the flaw, they know damn well it's true and that's when things get moving.
I am not someone to beat around the bush, and it gets me in a lot of trouble. I really want to have an exchange. I want them to feel like we're pals. But when push comes to shove, I'm the boss, you know? And, if you don't do what I say, that's cool, but then you're on your own. But I also tell them, “When you go out here, and you say who your teacher was, you're putting my name out there. So, you're now representing me. So, I have a stake in you now, so you have to do good!”
