Jay Harrison 1957 – 2023

The Musicians’ Association is saddened to announce the passing of Jay Harrison (1957–2023). Jay joined the AFM in 1976 and was an active musician and board member in Locals 180 (Ottawa) and 190 (Manitoba). He was a bandleader, clinician, Ottawa Local Vice-President, Winnipeg Local Secretary-Treasurer, and Delegate to the Canadian Conference and the AFM Convention.

Jay was a student at South Carleton High School in Manotick. He worked with “Ed O’Connor and the Top Hats” a lot while in high school and also ended up as a teaching assistant to Shorty McCulloch in the band program at his school. He played in Solid Brass in ’75–’76 and then with Vernon Isaac in the late ’70’s. He performed in the Stevens & Kennedy band. He was a member of the Central Band from the late ’70’s until he was posted to Winnipeg in the early ’90’s. Along with his service to the Ottawa Local, he played in the group “Duo Bones” with Art Katona, Glenn Robb, Sol Gunner and Art Lawless.

Jay was very busy in Winnipeg with a number of his own groups and then became very active in the Winnipeg Local after his release from the military. He retired to Gabriola Island in 2019 where he continued working for his brother at the “Wedge Mouthpiece” company.

Jay was an honourable man who was very generous with his time and talent. Always willing to help out or to take charge, he earned the great respect of everyone with whom he worked.

Jay’s brother Dave wrote, “Jay was diagnosed with multiple myeloma about 4 years ago. He fought courageously through many rounds of chemo and a stem cell transplant, but today that long journey ended.

“Along the way Jay taught me a lot about courage and determination. He died today calmly and peacefully with his loving family at his side. He was my best friend, and I will miss him greatly.”

Jay’s many friends and colleagues will miss him, too. Robin Moir shared this lovely memory:

“Jay and I had a special bond, over and above the love of live music and performance. He was much younger, the age of my youthful brother, and although we met often in our performing years, on stage, we didn’t spend time together.

“Much later in life, we re-met at the 2013 AFM Convention. He was VP of Local 190 in Winnipeg, and I had just taken over duties as Secretary-Treasurer at Local 180. Other than Francine, I did not know a single person in that gigantic convention room, and then in walked Jay! We were both in the same position – each of us just knowing the other.

“At the Convention Jay and I had time to get to know one another. What we discovered was that we both came from small towns in Southern Ontario, just down the road from each other, and that both of our families had spent time in the summers on the shores of Lake Erie. It was magical – as that shared family memory was so strong, years and years later…the shores of Lake Erie are indeed enchanted.

“The summer before the 2016 Convention I was at Long Point on Lake Erie, and I found a stone on the beach for him. I gave it to him at the Convention for his desk, to remember the wonderful years.

“At our final Convention, in 2019, Jay brought me a stone from a beach on Lake Erie that he was visiting with his sister and her family. I have that stone on my desk and it will always remind me of Jay.”

From Jay’s friend Phil Panke, we received the following tribute:

“Here are a couple of early memories that can attest to Jay’s character.

“1. Our family moved to the Manotick area when I was 13. We moved from the small town of Brighton, Ontario, where I left all of my friends. At our new home we lived in a rural subdivision, with no one anywhere near my age. It was a boring and lonely time, to say the least. When the first day of school came around, I got off the bus, and just stood there, knowing no one. A tall guy walked straight over, thrust out his hand, and said: “I see you are new here. My name is Jay. Jay Harrison.” Very mature for a 13-year-old. We became instant friends.

“2. I played minor hockey. One winter, a fellow on my team came down with meningitis, and was gone within three days. All the parents were contacted, with instructions to get their sons to a doctor to obtain prescription drugs. I got back home around 6:00 pm. It was mid-winter, dark outside, and very misty. My parents were going away for an overnight stay, so I was on my own. Nothing was guaranteed with the drugs, so I called Jay, explained the situation, and told him this could be my last night on earth. He said, “I will get a case of beer, and come right over.” Half an hour later there was a knock on the door. There stood Jay, with neither a car nor beer. He had overshot the turnoff to our subdivision and put the car in the ditch. We enlisted the aid of a neighbour, who pulled the car out unscathed. Jay and I then spent a long night listening to music and drinking way too much beer. We were 16 at the time. Think about that.”

And Gary Morton adds this tale:

“It was the end of the ’70s and the ’80s were closing in. Bill Stevens, Craig Kennedy and I decided that we wanted to have a new-sounding and young-looking band. I was looking to form a five-man horn section, and I needed one trombone to sound like four. We needed young, enthusiastic, great players, and our choice of trombone was Jay Harrison.

“Jay was one of our founding members and he only left us when he was transferred to Winnipeg.

“Jay was like Norm on cheers; when he came into the dressing room, we would all yell ‘Jay.’

“There are many stories about Jay, but one of the most memorable ones was when we were playing an event and they were serving lobster, and at the end of the evening there was a lot of food left over. The caterer asked us if we would like to take some lobster home with us. Jay promptly emptied his trombone case and said, “Fill it up.” Jay took home a trombone case of lobster.

“Jay had plenty of solos with the band, and in about his 15th year he announced that he wanted to sing. So, we gave him a couple of tunes. One of the tunes will die in infamy. A song called “Cannonball” became popular and Jay grabbed it. We soon realized that audiences hated that song, and it would always empty the dance floor. Whenever we wanted people to go home, the guys would yell “Cannonball.” Jay would get out in front and sing with all the gusto he had and sure enough, the room emptied.

“Jay seemed to have a good instinct about all things musical. I asked him one day how he knew when the phrase was over, how he knew where the 2 5 1 was and how he knew everything that was happening, and he just looked at me and said, “I just know”.

“All of my memories of Jay Harrison are good.”

Gary Morton for the Stevens & Kennedy Band

Rest in peace, good friend.

Source: eNews Harp, June 2023