Ed Beach, one of New York's most beloved jazz disc jockeys.....

Ed Beach (1924-2009), one of New York's most beloved jazz disc jockeys whose radio shows on WRVR-FM in the 1970s are so legendary and revered today that digital copies continue to be swapped on the Internet like rare baseball cards, died on December 25th in Eugene, OR. He was 85.

Though Ed was born in Oregon, he wound up in New York in the late 1950s, appearing in the theater. But his honey-rich voice soon landed him on the radio where he steadily built a large following for his true passion: jazz. Ed's on-air delivery was halting and hip, as if delivered from a hammock. Much of the magic stemmed from Ed's ability to hold the sound of words at the end of sentences just briefly, which added a certain warm cadence to his banter.

Even a careful New York listener couldn't quite grasp the origin of Ed's accent. Its cool, arch sound seemed native, but there was an out-of-town inflection as well, like someone who moved to town and absorbed the street lingo. That's probably because Ed's on-air style was a virtual collage of New York's great disc jockeys. When Ed spoke, you could hear the spirit of "Symphony Sid" Torin, Fred Robbins [pictured], Mort Fega and other broadcasting greats who years earlier had helped create a nocturnal mystique for jazz clubs and jazz musicians. [Photo of drummer Big Sid Catlett flexing for platter spinner Fred Robbins, by William P. Gottlieb]

And like those earlier graceful disc jockeys, Ed always kept the focus on the music, not himself, relying on little-known details about artists to inform and entertain. Ed's show Just Jazz always focused on a single artist's work, frequently covering a specific period, complete with bio bits. Back in the LP era of the 1970s, virtually everything he played was rare since very little of the older stuff was on vinyl.

His show opened with Wes Montgomery's So Do It! But Ed also used Montgomery as his background music, with the guitarist running octaves softly while Ed relayed information about an artist or track. From time to time, Ed would pause momentarily just to let Montgomery's D-Natural Blues from The Incredible Guitar of Wes Montgomery seep through. Or to buy a second to grab information. Either way, it was cool.

It was impossible not to be swept away by the sound of Ed's voice, and like many jazz fans in New York who grew up listening to him, I never understood why Ed left to return to Oregon after WRVR changed hands in the late 1970s. There were stories about a farm and Ed's love for unplowed fields. Others said he had had enough big city living for one lifetime. Way back in May 1973, when I was 17 years old, I wrote Ed a letter, probably to ramble on about how much his shows and the music meant to me. Ed, ever the jazz crusader, promptly wrote back: "Dear Marc,

"Very good to hear from a jazz enthusiast as young as yourself. I wish this marvelous music would capture the ears of several million more people in your age group. Good luck and convert some of your friends."
Hopefully today I'm doing Ed's work
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