| When the Moment Came, He Was Ready! The story of FDNY bugler and firefighter Julius Pontecorvo by Douglas Hedwig Originally published in The New York Brass Conference, 2002 Journal |
During the weeks and months which have followed the terrible tragedy of September 11th, 2001, Julius Pontecorvo, Official Bugler of the New York City
Fire Department, has had the somber duty and privilege to perform "Taps" for many FDNY funerals and memorial services. At churches, cathedrals, and
synagogues throughout the New York City Metropolitan area, this lone bugler's clear, focused, and resonant tone has given voice to an unspeakable grief.
For all but 16 of the 343 FDNY funerals and memorial services, there has been a bugler present to play "Taps." As the Official Bugler of the FDNY, it was
Firefighter Pontecorvo's responsibility to play or arrange for someone else to play for each of them. At last count, the number for which he has personally
performed stands at about 125. "I was suddenly thrust into this situation where all of this had to be done and taken care of," he said. "Each family
deserves a proper closure." During the first week alone after the 11th, he got called for 28 services. Understandably overwhelmed, he began to call upon
other members of the FDNY, New York City Police Department, one or two volunteer professional musicians, to help out. "I wanted to do every single one,
I would have done six a day, if possible, but, I just couldn't."
Fire Department, has had the somber duty and privilege to perform "Taps" for many FDNY funerals and memorial services. At churches, cathedrals, and
synagogues throughout the New York City Metropolitan area, this lone bugler's clear, focused, and resonant tone has given voice to an unspeakable grief.
For all but 16 of the 343 FDNY funerals and memorial services, there has been a bugler present to play "Taps." As the Official Bugler of the FDNY, it was
Firefighter Pontecorvo's responsibility to play or arrange for someone else to play for each of them. At last count, the number for which he has personally
performed stands at about 125. "I was suddenly thrust into this situation where all of this had to be done and taken care of," he said. "Each family
deserves a proper closure." During the first week alone after the 11th, he got called for 28 services. Understandably overwhelmed, he began to call upon
other members of the FDNY, New York City Police Department, one or two volunteer professional musicians, to help out. "I wanted to do every single one,
I would have done six a day, if possible, but, I just couldn't."
| Julius Pontecorvo |
For many years Julius has been active as a professional trumpeter in addition to his duties with the fire department. As the leader of a club-date band,
"Nightmoves," he books and works an average of 100 dates a year. So he knew he would do a good job when it really counted the most. But nothing in his
prior experience could fully prepare him for the intense emotional toll which this crisis would inflict on him. Through it all, however, he has pressed on and
provided an important service for the families of these fallen heroes, as well as for the thousands of other firefighters who have come to the many
ceremonies from all over the United States and even the world, to show their respect.
"Nightmoves," he books and works an average of 100 dates a year. So he knew he would do a good job when it really counted the most. But nothing in his
prior experience could fully prepare him for the intense emotional toll which this crisis would inflict on him. Through it all, however, he has pressed on and
provided an important service for the families of these fallen heroes, as well as for the thousands of other firefighters who have come to the many
ceremonies from all over the United States and even the world, to show their respect.
Julius Pontecorvo, age 48, has been a New York City Firefighter since April 7, 1979. He began studying trumpet with his father, Daniel Pontecorvo, then a
NYC Firefighter and Bugler (now retired), who was himself a very accomplished big-band style trumpeter for many years - even leading his own group under
his stage name of Sunny Daniels. After graduating from New Utrecht High School (Brooklyn), and then getting his Bachelor of Arts Degree in Music
Education from Long Island University (Brooklyn), Julius went on to play lead trumpet with many latin bands throughout New York City, including lengthy
gigs with Tito Puente's band, as well as a stint with Lionel Hampton. Then, as can so easily happen to trumpet players who are constantly called on to play
loud and high, night after night, he suffered a major embouchure breakdown.
The severe fiscal crisis in the city during the 1970's resulted in what has been described as a near total dismantling of instrumental music programs in the
New York City Public Schools. Even with his Music Education degree and State Teacher Certification, there simply were no
teaching jobs to be had. So, for the next two years Julius went into the practice room to get his chops back; first an hour or so, then gradually up to 8 to
10 hours of practice a day. With the extraordinary gift of total family support, he was able to completely devote himself to rebuilding and strengthening
his playing, while learning how to use his air more efficiently in conjunction with a more relaxed and balanced embouchure setup.
One day, in early 1979, he got a call to do a road gig with a disco band which would be traveling all over the United States. He jumped at the opportunity.
Playing six nights a week his chops got better and better. Several months later the band arrived in Las Vegas for an extended engagement. Several weeks
later, April 1st, he got a call from his Dad back in New York. This call was to change his life; in a way that would profoundly affect and influence the lives of
thousands of others some 23 years later.
Julius had taken the Firefighter test some months earlier; mainly as a backup. He did very well, scoring high on both the physical and written portions of
the exam, and his name had been placed on a waiting list. Being out on the road, and playing every night, had pretty much put all thoughts of becoming a
firefighter out of his mind. But now, here was his father's urgent phone call, saying that the fire department papers had come through. If he was going to
become a firefighter he had get home to New York by the following Saturday to be sworn in as a Probationary Firefighter with the FDNY. His father
explained that this opportunity would not likely come again any time soon. He could always quit the department if he didn't like it, his father explained.
But he had to get home right away if he wanted a shot.
Julius agonized for several days. As a boy, he had idolized his father, wanting to become a fireman just as he had. But, over the years the trumpet had
become his great passion, his reason for getting up in the morning. And after all, here he was in Las Vegas, playing every night, having the time of his life,
and getting paid for it. How could he give this up now? Yet he realized that when this gig ended and he was back in New York again, he would be
struggling for years before there would be the possibility of making regular income as a trumpet player. And he knew he wanted to start a family and buy a
house.
It was the great Hall of Fame baseball player and philosopher, Yogi Berra, who once said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!" Finally realizing
that it might be possible to continue playing professionally even while serving as a New York City Firefighter, Julius made the decision to return to NYC the
next day. On Saturday, April 7, 1979, Julius Pontecorvo was sworn in and became one of "New York's Bravest;" a member of The New York City Fire
Department.
Over the years since that day, Julius Pontecorvo has had many duties and obligations as a member of the FDNY. His first assignment was Engine Company
247 in Brooklyn. Later, he moved to Ladder 149, also in Brooklyn. He wanted to move to a Ladder Company because he wanted to get involved with more
rescue operations. Wanting to play more trumpet, and realizing the unusual hours of a regular firefighter made practicing and accepting gigs more and
more difficult, he became a Fire Inspector. Fire Inspectors had regular 8 AM - 4 PM hours, so he was able to play at night whenever he got called and
wanted to. The Department closed his Inspector unit after three years, at which point he went to work with Engine Company 151 in Staten Island where
he stayed for another three years. And for the last two years he has been assigned to the Health and Fitness Unit, training new NYC firefighters.
Within a week of being assigned to Engine 247, Julius was involved in his first fire. It was a three alarm fire, and his company was the first in. He
describes the scene as "pure bedlam," and his first experience as "intense and very scary." It was a "fully involved" fire, meaning the whole building was in
flames. "Each time you go in you get stronger and stronger," he said. A couple of years later, he was involved in the scariest moment of his life during
another fire in Brooklyn. There was a "May Day" issued by the commander, meaning the whole building was in danger of imminent collapse. Julius was the
last one out, barely managing to escape with his life. "I had flashbacks," he said. "Events of my life were passing through my mind as I was struggling to
find my way out."
As Official Bugler for the FDNY, Julius has played at official functions other than funerals. He has performed The Star-Spangled Banner for events such as
the important annual FDNY Medal Day Ceremony at City Hall; the FDNY Memorial Day ceremony at the beautiful and moving memorial statue to Firefighters
located at Riverside Drive and 100th street in Manhattan; at various ceremonies at Fire Department Headquarters in Brooklyn, and for many VFW posts for
veterans on Memorial Day each May. He also played our National Anthem accompanying his good friend, Vernon Cherry, the FDNY's singer, at a service
commemorating the infamous 23rd Street Fire of October 17, 1966. Vernon Cherry was one of the many brave firefighters who lost their lives on September
11th.
But it clearly is the performance of "Taps" which is the ceremonial bugler's most important function. And, his performance of it is clear, resonant, musical,
and heroic. "I was on the job one month, and I got my first 'job' playing 'Taps.' I was a 'probie' at the time. It was amazing. I was on the job no more than
a month and here I am playing in front of almost 10,000 people. I had played professionally before, of course, but this was different. I was very, very
nervous this first time."
Part of this nervousness was no doubt due to the very limited practice time he had during the first six weeks as a "probie;" a kind of basic training period
all new firefighters must go through. "I could practice a little, but, not much. I was studying to become a firefighter. Every day getting up at 5 in the
morning to train, get home at 5 or 6 in the evening, then studying until crashing into bed by 9 o'clock." But after a while he was able to start practicing
more and getting his chops back in shape.
Julius Pontecorvo prides himself on doing his best every time he plays for his brother firefighters and their familes. "It sounds kind of weird, I guess, but I
love playing 'Taps.' Most of the firefighters know me. It's like they say, 'OK, Julius is going to be playing and we know he is going to do a good job. The
firefighters know that. The families maybe think it's kind of a sad song, but that it is the right thing to do. It's a great feeling for me to do that for
them. Some families have come to say thank you. You know, they give me a kiss or a hug. Some, I know, express their thanks to the other firefighters -
'tell the bugler thank you so much.' They know that I have done something for them and I've done it with my heart and soul. And the firefighters know I
do it because I love doing it. And I know it could have been me over there. I see his little kids walking out on the church steps, and that could be my kids
walking out of that church. It is a great, great honor to do it for them."
NYC Firefighter and Bugler (now retired), who was himself a very accomplished big-band style trumpeter for many years - even leading his own group under
his stage name of Sunny Daniels. After graduating from New Utrecht High School (Brooklyn), and then getting his Bachelor of Arts Degree in Music
Education from Long Island University (Brooklyn), Julius went on to play lead trumpet with many latin bands throughout New York City, including lengthy
gigs with Tito Puente's band, as well as a stint with Lionel Hampton. Then, as can so easily happen to trumpet players who are constantly called on to play
loud and high, night after night, he suffered a major embouchure breakdown.
The severe fiscal crisis in the city during the 1970's resulted in what has been described as a near total dismantling of instrumental music programs in the
New York City Public Schools. Even with his Music Education degree and State Teacher Certification, there simply were no
teaching jobs to be had. So, for the next two years Julius went into the practice room to get his chops back; first an hour or so, then gradually up to 8 to
10 hours of practice a day. With the extraordinary gift of total family support, he was able to completely devote himself to rebuilding and strengthening
his playing, while learning how to use his air more efficiently in conjunction with a more relaxed and balanced embouchure setup.
One day, in early 1979, he got a call to do a road gig with a disco band which would be traveling all over the United States. He jumped at the opportunity.
Playing six nights a week his chops got better and better. Several months later the band arrived in Las Vegas for an extended engagement. Several weeks
later, April 1st, he got a call from his Dad back in New York. This call was to change his life; in a way that would profoundly affect and influence the lives of
thousands of others some 23 years later.
Julius had taken the Firefighter test some months earlier; mainly as a backup. He did very well, scoring high on both the physical and written portions of
the exam, and his name had been placed on a waiting list. Being out on the road, and playing every night, had pretty much put all thoughts of becoming a
firefighter out of his mind. But now, here was his father's urgent phone call, saying that the fire department papers had come through. If he was going to
become a firefighter he had get home to New York by the following Saturday to be sworn in as a Probationary Firefighter with the FDNY. His father
explained that this opportunity would not likely come again any time soon. He could always quit the department if he didn't like it, his father explained.
But he had to get home right away if he wanted a shot.
Julius agonized for several days. As a boy, he had idolized his father, wanting to become a fireman just as he had. But, over the years the trumpet had
become his great passion, his reason for getting up in the morning. And after all, here he was in Las Vegas, playing every night, having the time of his life,
and getting paid for it. How could he give this up now? Yet he realized that when this gig ended and he was back in New York again, he would be
struggling for years before there would be the possibility of making regular income as a trumpet player. And he knew he wanted to start a family and buy a
house.
It was the great Hall of Fame baseball player and philosopher, Yogi Berra, who once said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!" Finally realizing
that it might be possible to continue playing professionally even while serving as a New York City Firefighter, Julius made the decision to return to NYC the
next day. On Saturday, April 7, 1979, Julius Pontecorvo was sworn in and became one of "New York's Bravest;" a member of The New York City Fire
Department.
Over the years since that day, Julius Pontecorvo has had many duties and obligations as a member of the FDNY. His first assignment was Engine Company
247 in Brooklyn. Later, he moved to Ladder 149, also in Brooklyn. He wanted to move to a Ladder Company because he wanted to get involved with more
rescue operations. Wanting to play more trumpet, and realizing the unusual hours of a regular firefighter made practicing and accepting gigs more and
more difficult, he became a Fire Inspector. Fire Inspectors had regular 8 AM - 4 PM hours, so he was able to play at night whenever he got called and
wanted to. The Department closed his Inspector unit after three years, at which point he went to work with Engine Company 151 in Staten Island where
he stayed for another three years. And for the last two years he has been assigned to the Health and Fitness Unit, training new NYC firefighters.
Within a week of being assigned to Engine 247, Julius was involved in his first fire. It was a three alarm fire, and his company was the first in. He
describes the scene as "pure bedlam," and his first experience as "intense and very scary." It was a "fully involved" fire, meaning the whole building was in
flames. "Each time you go in you get stronger and stronger," he said. A couple of years later, he was involved in the scariest moment of his life during
another fire in Brooklyn. There was a "May Day" issued by the commander, meaning the whole building was in danger of imminent collapse. Julius was the
last one out, barely managing to escape with his life. "I had flashbacks," he said. "Events of my life were passing through my mind as I was struggling to
find my way out."
As Official Bugler for the FDNY, Julius has played at official functions other than funerals. He has performed The Star-Spangled Banner for events such as
the important annual FDNY Medal Day Ceremony at City Hall; the FDNY Memorial Day ceremony at the beautiful and moving memorial statue to Firefighters
located at Riverside Drive and 100th street in Manhattan; at various ceremonies at Fire Department Headquarters in Brooklyn, and for many VFW posts for
veterans on Memorial Day each May. He also played our National Anthem accompanying his good friend, Vernon Cherry, the FDNY's singer, at a service
commemorating the infamous 23rd Street Fire of October 17, 1966. Vernon Cherry was one of the many brave firefighters who lost their lives on September
11th.
But it clearly is the performance of "Taps" which is the ceremonial bugler's most important function. And, his performance of it is clear, resonant, musical,
and heroic. "I was on the job one month, and I got my first 'job' playing 'Taps.' I was a 'probie' at the time. It was amazing. I was on the job no more than
a month and here I am playing in front of almost 10,000 people. I had played professionally before, of course, but this was different. I was very, very
nervous this first time."
Part of this nervousness was no doubt due to the very limited practice time he had during the first six weeks as a "probie;" a kind of basic training period
all new firefighters must go through. "I could practice a little, but, not much. I was studying to become a firefighter. Every day getting up at 5 in the
morning to train, get home at 5 or 6 in the evening, then studying until crashing into bed by 9 o'clock." But after a while he was able to start practicing
more and getting his chops back in shape.
Julius Pontecorvo prides himself on doing his best every time he plays for his brother firefighters and their familes. "It sounds kind of weird, I guess, but I
love playing 'Taps.' Most of the firefighters know me. It's like they say, 'OK, Julius is going to be playing and we know he is going to do a good job. The
firefighters know that. The families maybe think it's kind of a sad song, but that it is the right thing to do. It's a great feeling for me to do that for
them. Some families have come to say thank you. You know, they give me a kiss or a hug. Some, I know, express their thanks to the other firefighters -
'tell the bugler thank you so much.' They know that I have done something for them and I've done it with my heart and soul. And the firefighters know I
do it because I love doing it. And I know it could have been me over there. I see his little kids walking out on the church steps, and that could be my kids
walking out of that church. It is a great, great honor to do it for them."
| Funeral for FDNY firefighter Thomas Kuveikis |
Unlike most buglers, Julius Pontecorvo has chosen to play "Taps" completely out of sight of the family and most of the other firefighters. "Years ago, at my
first funerals, my Dad would play right in front of the fire truck; just in front of the casket, with the families within 20 feet. Right from the start I felt
very uncomfortable playing it from this position; in front of them. We did it as a duet and it was pretty loud, we were not holding back at all. I
remember thinking, gosh, I'm not sure this is a very good idea. But, you know, my Dad had twenty-something years on the job, and I'm a rookie here.
So, what, I'm going to try and persuade him to change this?
So the next one we played together, I said, 'Dad, why don't we just kinda move back a little?' So we moved back - a little, not too much. Now we were
back maybe 30 or 40 feet. He said, 'We gotta get close, we gotta see what's going on, we have to see the second hand salute so we know when to play.' I
said, 'Dad, we only have to listen to the second hand salute.' My Dad always liked playing close. But when Dad retired and I took over by myself, I
decided to go beside the church, a couple of hundred feet away; out of the picture. No one could see me, they'd just hear it. I just feel that
emotionally it works much better."
It was also easier on Julius, for whom the playing of "Taps" has always been an intensely emotional experience. Once, when he was playing on top of the
church steps just next to the large exit doors, a mourner began crying so uncontrollably when she heard the first notes of "Taps" that she fell on top of
him; pushing the trumpet right off his mouth. The accident could easily have cost him some teeth.
"And then there were the times; several times over 23 years, I almost broke down crying because I could hear the kids crying," he said. "It was so difficult
for me to concentrate that I actually made a mistake. So I had to move further away. At first, the guys would say, 'where are you going?' I said, 'Don't
worry about it, you'll hear me.' I thought, I can't look at this child wearing his father's hat. I know I've done a lot of these, but still, every one to me, it's
a new one. It's never just another one. It's still as new as the first one twenty-three years ago."
But, the most important reason he plays from a distance is because it so meaningful and dramatically effective. "It comes from the distance. You know,
like, he's saying goodbye to them, from a great distance from heaven. I've gotten so many compliments. They say it sounds so much nicer. It just has
that kind of heavenly sound - coming from - where? Where is it?"
One year after the death of a firefighter there is an important ceremony at which a plaque of the fallen firefighter is unveiled in the firehouse where he
served. Julius came up with the idea of playing "Taps" from the bunkroom upstairs, with the ceremony taking place in the garage downstairs. "I had my
father do it this way for me once. I said, 'Dad, play upstairs. I want to hear what it sounds like. I've never heard it done this way.' And I thought, 'What a
feeling!' I felt it in my stomach! And I said to myself, 'Yes, this is the way.' And now everybody - even the police officers do it - everybody has copied me
and my father."
Hardly anyone knows there is an Official Bugler in the FDNY. That's the main reason he wears the Official Bugler patch on the right shoulder of his uniform.
In fact, there had never been an official fire department bugler in New York City before he was given the title. It was always informal, although everyone
understood who the "go to guy" was when there was an important ceremony. Julius designed his own patch and the department had it made up after
security issues made it essential for him to be clearly identified. "It's to let everyone know, when I walk into a ceremony and they see my trumpet bag,
they don't think its something else, especially with all the security these days - you know the Mayor or the Governor might be there."
But, although he is the Official Bugler, he plays only trumpet these days. "After I play, some people might say, 'Hey, that's not a bugle,' - they're looking
for something without valves. One of the Firefighters I used several times over the last few months, when there was more than one service going on at
the same time, plays the bugle. Actually, he is a tuba player who 'doubles' bugle; Bob Sashi. The bugle can produce a mellow, almost soothing sound.
But I definitely prefer the brightness of the trumpet."
Although it could be argued that there is no right or wrong way to play it, when Julius Pontecorvo plays "Taps," people really listen. It draws you in;
emotional, yet precise; lyrical, yet clearly articulated. And it is well thought out. What some might describe as a very simple bugle call - a slow fanfare, of
sorts - is played by Pontecorvo like a hymn. Over the years, while working out the style he now calls his own, he has tried many approaches to the
well-known tune. "I've tried it all legato - slurring the whole thing - to tonguing everything. I've tried it without vibrato. Now, everybody loves the
vibrato. Just on the sustained notes. I just started putting that in during the last 6 or 7 years 'cause I had good reports on it from the Chiefs. So I kept
that in."
"I like to use a light tongue stroke on each note; a slight legato. I do the melody in longer phrases instead of cutting the phrases the way I have heard it
done in the military. If I feel relaxed and warmed up, I can do it in two breaths, with maybe a quick third breath before the last three notes. I like to
keep it flowing, with the only break being the breath. But it would be quick, so quick that they don't even hear my breath."
He prefers a moderate, though steady tempo, without "rubato," the musical term which describes the expressive device of varying - speeding up and
slowing down - the basic musical pulse or tempo of a piece or phrase. Julius prefers to play it like a simple folk song, without too much affectation. The
weather may affect the tempo as well as articulation and feeling from one day to the next. "If it is really cold, I might tongue it more heavily. Because my
chops might be really stiff. Sometimes the G (the highest note of the tune) might not even come out. So I hit it a little more with the air. On a good
summer day or a spring day, if I'm warmed up well, it's usually pretty easy. The coldest days in January, February, March, that's when it's the toughest to
play. Like last week, it was cold. I felt it wasn't right. And, if I don't feel right that day I'm gonna try hard to make this work. It might not be as pretty as
some of them are, but I need to make it work. On days like this I keep the mouthpiece in my hand to keep it warm, and put it into the trumpet just
before I play. And I'll blow warm air into the trumpet to keep the metal warm. If it's too cold, the vibration is just not right. It's amazing how the cold
affects it. It just doesn't feel right when you play. It's almost like something is stuck inside the trumpet. So I have to deal with it at the spur of the
moment. I'm thinking, 'Ok, now, I'm stuck with this cold weather, my mouthpiece is real cold, my lips are stiff, my trumpet's cold, I have to get through
this.' It's not going to be as pretty. They don't know that. But I know. I want it to be the best every time."
One of the unknown factors he faces every time he plays, are the acoustics. "When it's very 'echoey', it's very easy to play. When it's dry and dead, it's
hard. In situations like that you tend to try to make it happen with your trumpet tone. So sometimes you push a little, and then you have to watch out
that you don't make a mistake. You might be playing into a mass of people, on a small little block, thousands and thousands of firefighters, and then it
sounds dead. And there's no way to make the sound 'echoey.'" When that happens Julius tends to play it a little faster. When he plays in a firehouse,
Julius usually finds it acoustically very dry because he is generally playing from the bunkroom and most of the sound gets "soaked up." But he knows that
even although it sounds dry and doesn't feel very good to him, downstairs in the garage - where the engines and all the equipment is stored - the sound is
resonant and full. "Sometimes, if the bunkroom is too far away and you can't hear the hand salute command, I play right in the kitchen, right behind the
plaque area. I close the door, and keep it open maybe an inch."
"One of the best places to play is St. Patrick's Cathedral. It sounds great there. The echo creates such a beautiful sound. It kind of bounces off all of the
buildings on 5th Avenue. You feel like the center is there, the resonance is there, your lips always feel pretty good over there."
But wherever Julius plays he has to warm up. "I have to warm up an hour just to play forty seconds. If I play without warming up I get charley horsed. It
can take me all day to get it back, especially if I have to play professionally at night. If I don't, my chops feel terrible. Sometimes I have to warm up in
the car. I've had to play when I didn't have time to warm up, and it was scary. People don't understand. 'Why do you have to play beforehand, you've
been playing for thirty years, you don't have to warm up any more!' I say, 'you've got to warm up. Does a runner go out and run a mile, does a weight
lifter just go out and lift 500 pounds without warming up? It's the same principle. We have muscles here.' Then they understand."
first funerals, my Dad would play right in front of the fire truck; just in front of the casket, with the families within 20 feet. Right from the start I felt
very uncomfortable playing it from this position; in front of them. We did it as a duet and it was pretty loud, we were not holding back at all. I
remember thinking, gosh, I'm not sure this is a very good idea. But, you know, my Dad had twenty-something years on the job, and I'm a rookie here.
So, what, I'm going to try and persuade him to change this?
So the next one we played together, I said, 'Dad, why don't we just kinda move back a little?' So we moved back - a little, not too much. Now we were
back maybe 30 or 40 feet. He said, 'We gotta get close, we gotta see what's going on, we have to see the second hand salute so we know when to play.' I
said, 'Dad, we only have to listen to the second hand salute.' My Dad always liked playing close. But when Dad retired and I took over by myself, I
decided to go beside the church, a couple of hundred feet away; out of the picture. No one could see me, they'd just hear it. I just feel that
emotionally it works much better."
It was also easier on Julius, for whom the playing of "Taps" has always been an intensely emotional experience. Once, when he was playing on top of the
church steps just next to the large exit doors, a mourner began crying so uncontrollably when she heard the first notes of "Taps" that she fell on top of
him; pushing the trumpet right off his mouth. The accident could easily have cost him some teeth.
"And then there were the times; several times over 23 years, I almost broke down crying because I could hear the kids crying," he said. "It was so difficult
for me to concentrate that I actually made a mistake. So I had to move further away. At first, the guys would say, 'where are you going?' I said, 'Don't
worry about it, you'll hear me.' I thought, I can't look at this child wearing his father's hat. I know I've done a lot of these, but still, every one to me, it's
a new one. It's never just another one. It's still as new as the first one twenty-three years ago."
But, the most important reason he plays from a distance is because it so meaningful and dramatically effective. "It comes from the distance. You know,
like, he's saying goodbye to them, from a great distance from heaven. I've gotten so many compliments. They say it sounds so much nicer. It just has
that kind of heavenly sound - coming from - where? Where is it?"
One year after the death of a firefighter there is an important ceremony at which a plaque of the fallen firefighter is unveiled in the firehouse where he
served. Julius came up with the idea of playing "Taps" from the bunkroom upstairs, with the ceremony taking place in the garage downstairs. "I had my
father do it this way for me once. I said, 'Dad, play upstairs. I want to hear what it sounds like. I've never heard it done this way.' And I thought, 'What a
feeling!' I felt it in my stomach! And I said to myself, 'Yes, this is the way.' And now everybody - even the police officers do it - everybody has copied me
and my father."
Hardly anyone knows there is an Official Bugler in the FDNY. That's the main reason he wears the Official Bugler patch on the right shoulder of his uniform.
In fact, there had never been an official fire department bugler in New York City before he was given the title. It was always informal, although everyone
understood who the "go to guy" was when there was an important ceremony. Julius designed his own patch and the department had it made up after
security issues made it essential for him to be clearly identified. "It's to let everyone know, when I walk into a ceremony and they see my trumpet bag,
they don't think its something else, especially with all the security these days - you know the Mayor or the Governor might be there."
But, although he is the Official Bugler, he plays only trumpet these days. "After I play, some people might say, 'Hey, that's not a bugle,' - they're looking
for something without valves. One of the Firefighters I used several times over the last few months, when there was more than one service going on at
the same time, plays the bugle. Actually, he is a tuba player who 'doubles' bugle; Bob Sashi. The bugle can produce a mellow, almost soothing sound.
But I definitely prefer the brightness of the trumpet."
Although it could be argued that there is no right or wrong way to play it, when Julius Pontecorvo plays "Taps," people really listen. It draws you in;
emotional, yet precise; lyrical, yet clearly articulated. And it is well thought out. What some might describe as a very simple bugle call - a slow fanfare, of
sorts - is played by Pontecorvo like a hymn. Over the years, while working out the style he now calls his own, he has tried many approaches to the
well-known tune. "I've tried it all legato - slurring the whole thing - to tonguing everything. I've tried it without vibrato. Now, everybody loves the
vibrato. Just on the sustained notes. I just started putting that in during the last 6 or 7 years 'cause I had good reports on it from the Chiefs. So I kept
that in."
"I like to use a light tongue stroke on each note; a slight legato. I do the melody in longer phrases instead of cutting the phrases the way I have heard it
done in the military. If I feel relaxed and warmed up, I can do it in two breaths, with maybe a quick third breath before the last three notes. I like to
keep it flowing, with the only break being the breath. But it would be quick, so quick that they don't even hear my breath."
He prefers a moderate, though steady tempo, without "rubato," the musical term which describes the expressive device of varying - speeding up and
slowing down - the basic musical pulse or tempo of a piece or phrase. Julius prefers to play it like a simple folk song, without too much affectation. The
weather may affect the tempo as well as articulation and feeling from one day to the next. "If it is really cold, I might tongue it more heavily. Because my
chops might be really stiff. Sometimes the G (the highest note of the tune) might not even come out. So I hit it a little more with the air. On a good
summer day or a spring day, if I'm warmed up well, it's usually pretty easy. The coldest days in January, February, March, that's when it's the toughest to
play. Like last week, it was cold. I felt it wasn't right. And, if I don't feel right that day I'm gonna try hard to make this work. It might not be as pretty as
some of them are, but I need to make it work. On days like this I keep the mouthpiece in my hand to keep it warm, and put it into the trumpet just
before I play. And I'll blow warm air into the trumpet to keep the metal warm. If it's too cold, the vibration is just not right. It's amazing how the cold
affects it. It just doesn't feel right when you play. It's almost like something is stuck inside the trumpet. So I have to deal with it at the spur of the
moment. I'm thinking, 'Ok, now, I'm stuck with this cold weather, my mouthpiece is real cold, my lips are stiff, my trumpet's cold, I have to get through
this.' It's not going to be as pretty. They don't know that. But I know. I want it to be the best every time."
One of the unknown factors he faces every time he plays, are the acoustics. "When it's very 'echoey', it's very easy to play. When it's dry and dead, it's
hard. In situations like that you tend to try to make it happen with your trumpet tone. So sometimes you push a little, and then you have to watch out
that you don't make a mistake. You might be playing into a mass of people, on a small little block, thousands and thousands of firefighters, and then it
sounds dead. And there's no way to make the sound 'echoey.'" When that happens Julius tends to play it a little faster. When he plays in a firehouse,
Julius usually finds it acoustically very dry because he is generally playing from the bunkroom and most of the sound gets "soaked up." But he knows that
even although it sounds dry and doesn't feel very good to him, downstairs in the garage - where the engines and all the equipment is stored - the sound is
resonant and full. "Sometimes, if the bunkroom is too far away and you can't hear the hand salute command, I play right in the kitchen, right behind the
plaque area. I close the door, and keep it open maybe an inch."
"One of the best places to play is St. Patrick's Cathedral. It sounds great there. The echo creates such a beautiful sound. It kind of bounces off all of the
buildings on 5th Avenue. You feel like the center is there, the resonance is there, your lips always feel pretty good over there."
But wherever Julius plays he has to warm up. "I have to warm up an hour just to play forty seconds. If I play without warming up I get charley horsed. It
can take me all day to get it back, especially if I have to play professionally at night. If I don't, my chops feel terrible. Sometimes I have to warm up in
the car. I've had to play when I didn't have time to warm up, and it was scary. People don't understand. 'Why do you have to play beforehand, you've
been playing for thirty years, you don't have to warm up any more!' I say, 'you've got to warm up. Does a runner go out and run a mile, does a weight
lifter just go out and lift 500 pounds without warming up? It's the same principle. We have muscles here.' Then they understand."
Playing at the many funerals and memorial services since September 11th was only a part of Julius Pontecorvo's overall responsibility. The other part was
coordinating all the schedules for the other buglers enlisted to help out. When Julius took on the job as Official Bugler, no one could have ever predicted
the amount of organizing and managerial skills that would some day be required. In a typical year Julius might have expected to be called to play three or,
at worst, six services. But after September 11th, even amid the shock of losing so many friends, he had to coordinate an incredibly complex system of
getting all of the important ceremonies covered by himself or another trumpeter.
"Out of all of them, we only missed one," he said. "It wasn't my fault (there was a problem with somebody not passing on the correct information). But I
felt personally responsible. I expressed my feelings to the ceremonial unit and I asked them to tell the family we are so sorry. We had in that one day, I
think, 19 or 20 and I knew I was responsible for all of them."
"Of course, during this time I had to take care of my kids" - Julius and his wife Cathy have two daughters, 15 and 10 - "and my family obligations. So, I
would be up to 11 or 12 at night taking care of phone calls and faxes, and then up again at 6 the next morning and it would begin all over again, pretty
much 7 days a week. I had to buy my own fax machine, used my own car, I paid for all the gas. I didn't ask the City for anything. Because of the love of
doing it. You do what you have to do." It is a sentiment shared by the many other firefighters, policemen and emergency workers who even now continue
at the World Trade Center site the Fresh Kills landfill on Staten Island, working long hours without compensation because they want to -- in fact, need to --
for their brothers.
In the elaborate and beautiful choreography of a New York City Fire Department funeral, part of the role of the bugler is to coordinate his timing with the
helicopter pilot who performs a "flyover" at precisely the moment that "Taps" is completed. This provides a very moving conclusion to the ceremony. "This
has been going on for several years, even before September 11th," Julius said. "Since back in the late 80's, early 90's, I think. Since there have been so
many deaths, since the 11th we have had only one helicopter - occasionally, two. We used to have three."
"I can hear the pilot coming. If I don't hear or see him right away, I might slow my playing down slightly, as slow as I can without dragging it. But, it's a
beautiful feeling when it does happen just right."
When the timing works out, it is indeed very impressive. As the last long, held-out note of "Taps" is sounding, a NYPD helicopter flies over the
congregation, standing in total silence. "We've done some perfect ones. And, we've done some non-perfect ones where he was so late that we actually
waited ten minutes in the freezing cold. But that's very rare. A lot depends on the winds and air traffic, but, usually, I try to coordinate it with him."
At a recent funeral in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Avenue at 50th Street, ranks of firefighters in full dress uniform were lined five deep for several
blocks north and south of the Cathedral. The coffin was carried out of the church, down toward the waiting fire truck, as pipers from the Emerald Society
played "Amazing Grace." The family members of the fallen hero walked slowly, solemnly out onto the steps and paused. Then all activity ceased and the
street, normally the busiest and noisiest in the city, fell completely silent. The Ceremonial Unit Commander signaled the thousands of assembled
firefighters to give a hand salute. And Julius Pontecorvo, unseen at the side of the great cathedral, raised his horn. Into the silence the haunting notes of
"Taps" rang out.
At that moment, as at many other locations during the aftermath of September 11th, 2001, a lifetime of preparation and experience came into focus and
was transformed into action for Firefighter Julius Pontecorvo. The crisis was at hand, and he was "going in."
coordinating all the schedules for the other buglers enlisted to help out. When Julius took on the job as Official Bugler, no one could have ever predicted
the amount of organizing and managerial skills that would some day be required. In a typical year Julius might have expected to be called to play three or,
at worst, six services. But after September 11th, even amid the shock of losing so many friends, he had to coordinate an incredibly complex system of
getting all of the important ceremonies covered by himself or another trumpeter.
"Out of all of them, we only missed one," he said. "It wasn't my fault (there was a problem with somebody not passing on the correct information). But I
felt personally responsible. I expressed my feelings to the ceremonial unit and I asked them to tell the family we are so sorry. We had in that one day, I
think, 19 or 20 and I knew I was responsible for all of them."
"Of course, during this time I had to take care of my kids" - Julius and his wife Cathy have two daughters, 15 and 10 - "and my family obligations. So, I
would be up to 11 or 12 at night taking care of phone calls and faxes, and then up again at 6 the next morning and it would begin all over again, pretty
much 7 days a week. I had to buy my own fax machine, used my own car, I paid for all the gas. I didn't ask the City for anything. Because of the love of
doing it. You do what you have to do." It is a sentiment shared by the many other firefighters, policemen and emergency workers who even now continue
at the World Trade Center site the Fresh Kills landfill on Staten Island, working long hours without compensation because they want to -- in fact, need to --
for their brothers.
In the elaborate and beautiful choreography of a New York City Fire Department funeral, part of the role of the bugler is to coordinate his timing with the
helicopter pilot who performs a "flyover" at precisely the moment that "Taps" is completed. This provides a very moving conclusion to the ceremony. "This
has been going on for several years, even before September 11th," Julius said. "Since back in the late 80's, early 90's, I think. Since there have been so
many deaths, since the 11th we have had only one helicopter - occasionally, two. We used to have three."
"I can hear the pilot coming. If I don't hear or see him right away, I might slow my playing down slightly, as slow as I can without dragging it. But, it's a
beautiful feeling when it does happen just right."
When the timing works out, it is indeed very impressive. As the last long, held-out note of "Taps" is sounding, a NYPD helicopter flies over the
congregation, standing in total silence. "We've done some perfect ones. And, we've done some non-perfect ones where he was so late that we actually
waited ten minutes in the freezing cold. But that's very rare. A lot depends on the winds and air traffic, but, usually, I try to coordinate it with him."
At a recent funeral in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th Avenue at 50th Street, ranks of firefighters in full dress uniform were lined five deep for several
blocks north and south of the Cathedral. The coffin was carried out of the church, down toward the waiting fire truck, as pipers from the Emerald Society
played "Amazing Grace." The family members of the fallen hero walked slowly, solemnly out onto the steps and paused. Then all activity ceased and the
street, normally the busiest and noisiest in the city, fell completely silent. The Ceremonial Unit Commander signaled the thousands of assembled
firefighters to give a hand salute. And Julius Pontecorvo, unseen at the side of the great cathedral, raised his horn. Into the silence the haunting notes of
"Taps" rang out.
At that moment, as at many other locations during the aftermath of September 11th, 2001, a lifetime of preparation and experience came into focus and
was transformed into action for Firefighter Julius Pontecorvo. The crisis was at hand, and he was "going in."
Author Douglas Hedwig is a professional trumpeter (Metropolitan Opera, 27-year veteran) and Brooklyn College Professor of Music in New York City.
Over the span of a 35-year career, he has performed, conducted and taught throughout the world, recorded over 40 albums in chamber music, orchestral,
and commercial idioms, and received honors and awards from The National Endowment for the Arts, The Fulbright Foundation, The TELLY Awards, The
United States Department of State, St. Hilda's & St. Hugh's School, and the cities of Siena and Capodimonte, Italy. He was awarded the Doctor of Musical
Arts Degree from The Juilliard School in 1986, where he later served on the music history faculty. He was the first trumpeter to receive a doctorate in the
history of the school.
None of these accomplishments comes close to equaling the pride, honor, and sense of purpose he felt while performing "Taps" as a volunteer "Civilian
Bugler" at many funerals and memorial services for the brave men of the FDNY who gave their lives on September 11th so that many thousands of others
might live. Douglas Hedwig was awarded a "Commissioners Special Commendation" by Thomas Von Essen, then the Fire Commissioner of the New
York City Fire Department. The citation reads, in part: "In Recognition of Your Compassionate Actions on Behalf of The New York City Fire
Department...[the] FDNY thanks you for your dedication and assistance...[and is] Deeply Appreciative of Your Efforts During this Difficult
Time...December 13, 2001."
Over the span of a 35-year career, he has performed, conducted and taught throughout the world, recorded over 40 albums in chamber music, orchestral,
and commercial idioms, and received honors and awards from The National Endowment for the Arts, The Fulbright Foundation, The TELLY Awards, The
United States Department of State, St. Hilda's & St. Hugh's School, and the cities of Siena and Capodimonte, Italy. He was awarded the Doctor of Musical
Arts Degree from The Juilliard School in 1986, where he later served on the music history faculty. He was the first trumpeter to receive a doctorate in the
history of the school.
None of these accomplishments comes close to equaling the pride, honor, and sense of purpose he felt while performing "Taps" as a volunteer "Civilian
Bugler" at many funerals and memorial services for the brave men of the FDNY who gave their lives on September 11th so that many thousands of others
might live. Douglas Hedwig was awarded a "Commissioners Special Commendation" by Thomas Von Essen, then the Fire Commissioner of the New
York City Fire Department. The citation reads, in part: "In Recognition of Your Compassionate Actions on Behalf of The New York City Fire
Department...[the] FDNY thanks you for your dedication and assistance...[and is] Deeply Appreciative of Your Efforts During this Difficult
Time...December 13, 2001."
Author's Postscript: Julius Pontecorvo recently took a retirement option from the FDNY. He is now substitute teaching in the New York City Public
Schools. He is looking to get his Masters (probably studying with me at Brooklyn College!) and get a full-time music teaching job in the NYC Public Schools.
Schools. He is looking to get his Masters (probably studying with me at Brooklyn College!) and get a full-time music teaching job in the NYC Public Schools.