Mel Broiles: Trumpet Warrior
TRUMPET WARRIOR
Mel Broiles was born 4000 years too late. He was the reincarnation of Micenus, the mythical trumpeter immortalized in the Iliad, part of the personal retinue of the great Trojan warrior, Hector. After The Trojan War, Micenus challenged Triton, god of the sea, to a trumpet ‘toot off’ to see who could blow a trumpet louder. The result was a predictably unhappy one for Micenus, but his defeat was one worthy of a great warrior. Micenus kept his swagger right until he was literally blown away.
When Mel Broiles was in the West Point Band in the 1950s, he played alongside trumpet greats, Frank Kaderabek, Robert Nagel, Thomas Stevens, and Dave Zauder, who were also in the band. Mel would march around the parade ground for hours on end, while playing his trumpet, in order to build his strength and endurance. For the first 37 years of his career at the MET, Mel never missed a rehearsal or performance. This is a record at the MET; no one is within 25 years of equalling Mel’s attendance record. It’s a feat more incredible than hall of fame third baseman, Cal Ripken’s consecutive game streak. Ripken only played every game for 16 years compared to Mel’s 37 years. Once, when Mel was obviously sick with flu and fever at a routine performance (Traviata or Boheme) which could easily have been covered by one of the other 4 players in the section, he turned to second trumpeter, Harry Peers, and through a raspy cough whispered, “Yes, Harry, I’m sick but no one must know!”. James Levine (Music director of the MET from 1973-present), who has conducted more opera performances than any person who ever lived, was asked by a television interviewer about his brutal work schedule. The interviewer was marveling at Levine’s energy and dedication and asked how it was possible to rehearse, perform and practice 16 hours a day, 7 days a week? Levine smiled and responded by quoting Mel Broiles, “My first trumpet player, Mel Broiles, said something once that I’ve never forgotten and I guess you could say it applies to me, ‘You’re either alive or you’re dead!’’’.
Mel’s concentration was exceptional. While many other brass players would read books and magazines during long rests, or leave the pit to attend to personal business or get a cup of coffee, Mel would always stay in the pit, seated attentively in his chair counting bars rest. He would explain, “Someone’s got to mind the store”.
In the early 1950s, Mel spent time in Los Angeles playing in dance bands, pursuing his interest in jazz. Hanging in his locker was a picture from the early 50s of Mel standing next to Charlie Parker in what looks to be a jazz club. Listening to Mel play 1st trumpet, one could clearly hear the influence of his dance band experience as well as that of the great powerhouse lead trumpet players of his era, Doc Severinson, Conrad Gozzo and Maynard Ferguson. Mel was a large man, well over 6 feet tall and 200 pounds and he had forged every inch and ounce of his body into a well oiled machine that could unleash a trumpet sound the power of which could only be equaled by Triton or the archangel, Gabriel. In loud passages, he would sometimes play with such force that his body would shake until every mililiter of breath was out of his body. During my first week at the MET, I was sitting in the back of the orchestra room observing an orchestra reading of “Pagliacci”. This was a pre-season rehearsal of an often performed repertoire piece, a piece that the orchestra knew very well. The musicians were pretty much taking it easy, just rounding themselves back into shape, playing the rehearsal as a kind of warmup for the long opera season. Not Mel. At the very end of the opera, when the trumpet plays the big tune, “Vesti la Guibba”, Mel let loose. The paint on the walls of the rehearsal room turned from blue to purple and the entire viola section involuntarily doubled over, instinctually ducking their heads to avoid having them severed cleanly from their necks. The conductor, John Nelson, was blown backwards two steps, landing with one foot completely off the podium. When the music stopped, a stunned maestro Nelson cautiously and soothingly addressed Mel, “That’s great Mel, but down here on C level (site of the orchestra rehearsal room), I think we can take it a bit easy. I think mezzo forte should suffice”. To which Mel responded without missing a beat, “John, that was my mezzo forte!”.