I am sorry to inform you that my friend and Grady classmate, Stanley Yerlow, has passed away. His funeral is today, September 15, 2022, at 11:00 AM, at Riverdale Cemetery, Columbus, GA.
Love Always
Stanley was a warm, wonderful friend, a talented musician, composer, entertainer, and a respected professor. I will miss him and his music. I especially love his performances like Maple Leaf Rag: https://yerlow.com/photo-and-video
Stanley and I first met some time before high school in Owen Seitz’s band. Seitz was a mean trombone player and a meaner person. It is fitting that our first contact was with music. Stanley’s father (I believe his name was Sam) as a great trombone player, and we were told invested much of his younger years touring with bands as a trombonist. He was very quiet and looked older than his years; but, put a trombone in his hand then he was dynamic. Stanley, Murray, I and Stanley’s father were engaged to play for a party at a synagogue in Dalton, Georgia. We were young and it was fun. As the evening progressed Stanley’s father would get drinks for us and place them on the bandstand at our feet. We would take a drink then knock them over and Sam would refill them. As the evening warmed up Stanley, particularly, got very sick (remember, we were young) and the hosts were very mad at Sam. He said nothing. I felt so sorry for him; but all we could see was this quiet, old before his years man who turned into this musical dynamo with an instrument in his hand. This Stanley’s genetic heritage. It was in his blood. As we were packing up to leave the next day a Sunday school teacher looked at this ragtag gaggle of young musicians and a now withdrawn old man and said, “See these people. They are great musicians.” That was the first time that Stanley and I shared public praise, and , for too young people, it felt good. Stanley played the trombone, maybe out of homage to his father.
In High School (more like junior high, today) my father brought home tv dinners from his warehouse, which were new for the time and probably stuffed with salt. Stanley and I sat up most of the night each eating several of them and talking religion, politics, music, and everything else all night. From the beginning he was one of the few people I could talk to about anything, and those conversations shaped from the beginning how I think and feel about most everything today. We were on opposite sides of the present political spectrum, but this do not stop our conversations. At times we each were curmudgeons. Outliers in our special way; but Stanley was more than a friend and more like a brother. I miss him. Life is now a little less complete.
Stanley, Murray, and I formed a jazz trio to participate in a contest sponsored by a local radio station. We argued as to whose name to use as the leader: Stanley Yerlow? Burton Beerman? Murray Solomon? No agreement there. So we finally agreed to make up a name: The Bill Vincent Trio. Of course, there was no such leader. At least, not for us. As luck would have it we won the contest and prize (the contest was broadcast live over the sponsoring radio station). They wanted Bill Vincent to come forward and claim the prize (it was cash, I am sure). I don’t remember what happened; but I do know that panic set in.
I can't thank Burton enough for his comments about Stanley. Yes, that was the Stanley I knew. He could play trombone and piano like no one else. And did you know he could dance? If not, check out his website, yerlow.com. There is a brief video of one of his performances on the Regis Philbin show -- just one of his many adventures.
Demaris Humphries (Miller)
Stanley was a warm, wonderful friend, a talented musician, composer, entertainer, and a respected professor. I will miss him and his music. I especially love his performances like Maple Leaf Rag: https://yerlow.com/photo-and-video
Harvey Schulman
יהי זכרו ברוך
Bailey Smith (Barash)
May Stanley's menory be a blessing.
Burton Beerman
Stanley and I first met some time before high school in Owen Seitz’s band. Seitz was a mean trombone player and a meaner person. It is fitting that our first contact was with music. Stanley’s father (I believe his name was Sam) as a great trombone player, and we were told invested much of his younger years touring with bands as a trombonist. He was very quiet and looked older than his years; but, put a trombone in his hand then he was dynamic. Stanley, Murray, I and Stanley’s father were engaged to play for a party at a synagogue in Dalton, Georgia. We were young and it was fun. As the evening progressed Stanley’s father would get drinks for us and place them on the bandstand at our feet. We would take a drink then knock them over and Sam would refill them. As the evening warmed up Stanley, particularly, got very sick (remember, we were young) and the hosts were very mad at Sam. He said nothing. I felt so sorry for him; but all we could see was this quiet, old before his years man who turned into this musical dynamo with an instrument in his hand. This Stanley’s genetic heritage. It was in his blood. As we were packing up to leave the next day a Sunday school teacher looked at this ragtag gaggle of young musicians and a now withdrawn old man and said, “See these people. They are great musicians.” That was the first time that Stanley and I shared public praise, and , for too young people, it felt good. Stanley played the trombone, maybe out of homage to his father.
In High School (more like junior high, today) my father brought home tv dinners from his warehouse, which were new for the time and probably stuffed with salt. Stanley and I sat up most of the night each eating several of them and talking religion, politics, music, and everything else all night. From the beginning he was one of the few people I could talk to about anything, and those conversations shaped from the beginning how I think and feel about most everything today. We were on opposite sides of the present political spectrum, but this do not stop our conversations. At times we each were curmudgeons. Outliers in our special way; but Stanley was more than a friend and more like a brother. I miss him. Life is now a little less complete.
Stanley, Murray, and I formed a jazz trio to participate in a contest sponsored by a local radio station. We argued as to whose name to use as the leader: Stanley Yerlow? Burton Beerman? Murray Solomon? No agreement there. So we finally agreed to make up a name: The Bill Vincent Trio. Of course, there was no such leader. At least, not for us. As luck would have it we won the contest and prize (the contest was broadcast live over the sponsoring radio station). They wanted Bill Vincent to come forward and claim the prize (it was cash, I am sure). I don’t remember what happened; but I do know that panic set in.
Demaris Humphries (Miller)
I can't thank Burton enough for his comments about Stanley. Yes, that was the Stanley I knew. He could play trombone and piano like no one else. And did you know he could dance? If not, check out his website, yerlow.com. There is a brief video of one of his performances on the Regis Philbin show -- just one of his many adventures.