INTERVIEW WITH TOLEDO ARTIST LARRY MEYER

Photo By Rick Gerbeck

Last year, I began thinking of an idea for a series about local Toledo artists. I wanted to feature artists that had day jobs outside of their art and never use lack of time as an excuse to not get out there and produce their life’s work. This is the third in an 11-part series I’m calling The Moonlighting Series. You can find part ONE and TWOhere.

When I think of people who embody the heart behind the Moonlighting Series, I think of individuals who aren’t making excuses about not having enough time for their craft – people who are examples for the rest of us that it’s never too late to pursue that one thing you always said you would pursue when you were young.

When I asked my friends around the Toledo area who they felt embodied this ideal, one name kept popping up. Larry Meyer. Larry has been practicing law for 30 years and is a partner at Manahan, Pietrykowski, Delaney & Wasielewski. At the age of 50, he found himself playing some of his first gigs with his band, Old State Line.

I wanted to sit down with him and ask a few questions about his craft, what he thinks about the phrase ‘quit your day job and chase your dreams’, and what helped push him to pursue his passions later in life.

What is your official title and how long have you been practicing law? What do you enjoy most about your day job?

I am a partner at Manahan, Pietrykowski, DeLaney, and Wasielewski, and I ‘ve been practicing law for approximately 30 years. I love the flexibility that it usually provides. Absent court appearances, I can juggle emergencies that pop up like child care, car repairs, etc. and then often compensate on the back-end by a combination of laptop and cell phone use. I realize that not every job allows that. I also love working downtown and the fact that I have been able to incorporate music law and fundamental copyright law into the mix.

What happened that made you decide to play out as a drummer for the first time? How old were you and what was the catalyst that pushed you to do it?

I took lessons and played drums when I was much younger. It was in Junior High School band and orchestra stuff. I never played live in a garage band (for example), but I did have the basic experience of learning a piece of music and then performing it in the school gym for friends and family. I even marched in a parade. It came easy, and I enjoyed it, but I walked away. Like most small-town Ohio boys, I thought that sports were more important.

However, I was still a music-head, and I spent the following decades watching every drummer that I came across. I also started to develop an interest in the business of music. A friend, Rob Morrin, was an accomplished player, but not active at the time. He eventually got a larger place and could set up his drum kit again. He encouraged me to sit down and make some noise. That was the first step.

A singer/songwriter friend, Shane Piasecki, had a parts-and-pieces circa 1968 Slingerland drum set that he gave me on an open-ended loan. I started the restoration process and eventually purchased it, complete with some extras. It turned into a sleek, sexy silver-sparkle beauty. Somehow I felt obliged to step up and earn this vintage instrument. That was a big second step.

Another buddy, Dave Gierke, steered me to Rob Desmond, head percussion teacher at Toledo School for the Arts, for private lessons. It was a great fit. We figured out that my early public-school music education had served me well and was somewhat intact. We went forward from there focusing on different musical styles that a working rock drummer might encounter. An excellent, solid third step.

Another friend, John Rockwood, was active at the time with his band Voodoo Libido. They played periodically at Packo’s At The Park and did a soul-revue thing, which allowed John to call up special guests for a song or two. One day he told me, “You’re ready. See you at Packos.” I knew that John would take it easy on me, but I was still a ball of nerves. He called my name, and I gulped the rest of my beer. The drummer handed over his sticks, and we played Johnny B. Goode. Boom.

Welcome to the club.

Old State Line eventually grew out of jam sessions at Tom Barden’s house in Old Orchard, and musician/Pastor Chris Matthy invited me into the band at Augsburg Lutheran Church.

As you can see, a succession of interesting, creative friends was involved. Looking around and realizing that we had this special group of people helped my wife and I lean towards starting a family, ultimately through adoption. We made a conscious decision that we wanted our daughter to grow up in a house where the arts are practiced, not just talked about. Neither one of us saw the act of meeting our nine-month-old daughter as a reason to stop. Instead, it was a reason to keep going.

Fast forward a year or so, and I turned 50 playing a gig with Old State Line at Wesley’s Bar. I was just as surprised as anyone to find me breaking into Toledo’s live music community at that point in my life.

What feelings or thoughts went through your mind at your first gig? Did something trigger that you knew this was something you just HAD to pursue?

Let’s face it. I play the drums. Handled correctly, drums can be musical, but drums alone aren’t very melodic. You need to play with other folks. As a kid, I had played at home along to my favorite albums while wearing headphones. That’s OK for some, but this time around I knew that I wanted the whole experience. That takes a gig and an audience. Before Rockwood called me up at Packos, I remember my wife whispering that it would be OK to say, “No.” Luckily, I was equal parts nervous and excited, so I took the chance.

How do you manage your time having a full-time career, family, and pursuit of music?

It helps that my wife is a strong woman with interests of her own. It’s a balancing act, for sure. I play in Old State Line, and it’s understood that I can handle 3-4 gigs a month, plus rehearsals. We try not to do two nights in a row, and mostly avoid the late 10:00 pm to 2:00 am stuff. Every once in a while the phone rings, and I get a free-lance job with someone else. Luckily, some of the gigs are family-friendly. It’s not all bars. It also helps that my day job allows me to field the occasional band-related email or phone call.

What excuses or myths drive you crazy from people that have put their artistic crafts aside? What are some practical tips for them to get over their reasons and do something?

I say two things. First, it’s never too late. I’m proof. Second, remember to volunteer. In addition to the job and band, I am also a board member of the Arts Commission and have served on other arts-based boards and committees, including the Ohio Theatre. It all scratches the same itch. If you value this stuff, there are a variety of performing and non-performing ways to help facilitate art in our community. And it’s fun! If your art never leaves your basement or studio, that’s OK, too.

How does civil litigation and art parallel each other? How have you found that your job has prepared you to be a performing musician?

Yes, my job helped. A good trial lawyer needs to know when to shut-up and sit-down. The goal of a good musician is to serve the song. In my mind, that’s a strong parallel. Separate what you want from what you need. The first question is whether you even need to play on a given song. But once the basics are covered, from time to time the drummer can kick things into high gear, or help take the song in a new direction, provided that you have like-minded players that are communicating with each other. The legal equivalent is the need sometimes to veer off-script and react to the situation that’s unfolding, which may not be exactly what you planned. A certain amount of court-room experience provided the confidence to throw-down with a band. And once the performer in you gels, it’s just that much easier to give a work presentation or to argue your case, so I’m certain that playing music has made me a better lawyer, as well. Another good preparation was time spent with a local figure drawing group. Just as drawing is about seeing, music is about listening. I know, that sounds so simple, right? There is also another aspect. Since I was already established in one part of the community, if I was going to go “public” as a drummer, I had to do it to the best of my ability. Whether or not I’m a good player is for someone else to say, but I hope it’s clear that I’m studying the craft and continuing to up my game.

Who are some of your biggest inspirations in music and how have you learned from them?

Levon Helm was a huge inspiration. I was lucky enough to see him perform just weeks before he passed. He was so passionate about explaining the crack of a good solid back-beat, and the excitement of making people dance. Rock is not necessarily the same thing as rock and roll, and thanks to the likes of Levon, I get that distinction. That phrase “rock and roll” may date me, but I think it’s a feeling not limited to any one genre of music, or to any specific instrumentation. And inspiration is all around. Toledo’s music scene is so deep. For example, I learn something every time that I watch my friend Marc Gray, a master of swing and rockabilly. Last weekend I saw Scott Kretzer play with The Reese Daily Band and you better believe that I made some mental notes. Bob Rex, Adam Schreiber, Chuck Mauk, Sam Woldenberg, Mark Sentle . . . the list goes on. There is no substitute for playing with people better than you, and thanks to some of Toledo’s great jam sessions I occasionally get to do just that. Let there be no mistake about it – I’m still paying dues.

What’s one or two things you wish you would have known or done in your 20’s that you can reflect back on to help other aspiring musicians?

Protect your hearing! I’m only half joking. The past is what it is. I can’t go back, so let me flip this around and identify some things that I apparently did right. I’m just happy that I stayed interested in music, went to a million shows, and eventually circled back. Thankfully I like to listen to all kinds of music, which is a big help on the bandstand.

How do you feel about the belief that we should all drop our day jobs and pursue what we are passionate about full time?

My friend has a bumper sticker that reads, “Real Musicians Have Day Jobs.” On some level it’s true. People who do it because their life is not complete without it are a special breed. I think the greater lesson for me was to realize that it’s not either/or. I know what I do – play drums in a bar band. It has its own skill set. I get paid when I play, which I think entitles me to use the term semi-professional. I also have friends that are full-time professional musicians doing 200 nights a year on the road; and friends that are full-time professional musicians who stay local doing 5-6 nights a week. Other friends fall in between, and in 2018 that seems to require patching together a series of part-time events, like recording, touring and teaching. I’m not sure that I’m cut out for any of that. Because of the law practice and volunteer work, I’ve been able to combine my worlds to some degree. Currently, I’m digging it. I haven’t got time to waste on what might have been. I stand in awe of those artists that made the leap, but I’m content to continue developing my own niche on a semi-professional basis, for a long as it lasts.

Lastly, within your art, you give back through events like Acoustics for Autism. Can you tell us a bit about the event and why people should participate?

Acoustics for Autism is a unique experience. My hat is off to everyone behind it. I have organized charity events, and local musicians were kind enough to donate their time, so I’m happy to reciprocate. Acoustics for Autism is a monster of sorts, but at this point, I think that everyone who attends knows what they’re getting into, and that’s part of the attraction. Autism impacts a large part of our community, and this event serves a need. I think that there is another aspect of the event that relates to this interview, however. In its own rite, Acoustics for Autism is a celebration of local bar band culture; and by that, I mean Toledo’s deep music scene, and its mix of some professional but mostly semi-professional players and the bond between them. A whole lot of local folks augment their lives by participating in the arts when they can, where they can. I just came across it a bit later than most.